


White Rabbit

by Di1emma



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Case Fic, Connor feels a lot of emotions, Hank and Markus help, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Rated for Hank's Language tbh, very light in the first chapter but just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Di1emma/pseuds/Di1emma
Summary: It's been almost a year since the successful android revolution, with the future looking nothing but bright, when Hank and Connor are handed a case that goes deeper than anyone thought, and Connor is forced to face the truths he's tried so desperately to bury.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this chapter as a kind of practice to get into the swing of writing for these characters + to lay down some exposition, so the plot hasn't really started yet i promise it'll get more interesting lol  
> also cw for android body horror so watch out if that's not your thing

It all started with an anonymous tip, and ended with a growing puddle of thirium and a ruined uniform. Oh, and a chainsaw wielding, red ice addict had been there somewhere in the middle. Long story short Connor was, as Hank would put it, 'fucked up’. 

According to his hastily run scans there were two points of major damage. The most pressing was to his right arm, nearly severed at the shoulder. Normally a severed limb wouldn't be a huge issue, his programming would shut off the flow of thirium to the limb which was no longer there thus keeping bleeding to a minimum. However it seemed that just enough of his sensors were still in tact that his body believed the limb still required thirium.

Normally a quick fix, easy enough to manually remove his right arm with his left. Except that brought him to the second point of major damage. The chainsaw maniac had mangled his left hand when Connor had, rather stupidly, initially thrown his hands up to block the first attack. In his defense, though, he had hardly been trained to expect horror movie trope weaponry on investigations.

All in all he wasn't too worried despite the glaring warnings flashing across his vision. He had yet to be given a time until shutdown, and he knew the Lieutenant would be charging in in a few moments, already berating Connor for not waiting for backup. 

With timing Connor would have found comedic if not for the circumstances, Hank Anderson burst through the door of the dingy abandoned apartment Connor had chased their suspect to. His gun was drawn and the expected scolding on the tip of his tongue, but upon noticing the only living being in the room to be Connor calmly sitting in a pool of his own blood, he hastily holstered the weapon and ran over to kneel in front of his partner.

“Holy shit Connor, the fuck he get you with?” 

“A chainsaw.” Connor replied steadily, quickly adding on, “Applying pressure to the wound won't stop the loss of thirium, it has no clotting properties.” As Hank looked about ready to start ripping up his own clothes to create bandages.

“Well shit, what do I do then? You're gonna bleed out here Con.”

“You won't like this,” Connor prefaced his statement, “but you need to remove my right arm.” A heavy silence fell after that, Hank giving Connor what had to be the most impressive unamused expression the Android had ever seen on the Lieutenant's face.

“You're shitting me.”

“Do you think I would find this an appropriate time to be 'shitting you’ Lieutenant?” Connor shot back with a raised brow, “If my body detects a severed limb it will automatically cease blood flow.” He explained quickly, almost embarrassed by the tremble in his voice as a Critical Thirium Levels warning spanned his entire field of view for a few milliseconds. Hank must have perceived the minute waver as he seemed to sober up and steel himself for the task.

“Alright just tell me what to do so I don't mess you up more.” He said, already reaching to take hold of the injured arm. Connor closed his eyes, leaning his head back again the wall. Emotions may still be a confusing topic for him but he knew this feeling to be relief. 

“Most of the exoskeleton was hacked away or damaged. You should be able to remove the arm with a strong enough pull.” He waited a few seconds, eyes still shut, and was about to encourage Hank to go ahead when the human gave a grunt and with a uncomfortable stretching feeling and the sensation of several sensors snapping Connor was one arm poorer.

“You alright Connor?” The android in question realized he had pulled a face of discomfort, and quickly blinked it away while the error messages blinding him flickered and faded as he stabilized.

“As alright as can be expected, Lieutenant.” He answered as he used the wall behind him as leverage to stand, his partner scrambling to follow suit, placing a steadying hand on Connor's left arm. “The sooner we get back to the station the sooner we can figure out where our suspect has gone.” 

“Wait wait, slow down there son.” Hank started, his frown deepening when Connor raised a questioning brow at him. Hank waved the right arm still in his grasp as though that was enough of an answer, before explaining further, “Shouldn't you go to the robo hospital or something? For Christ's sake, I'm holding your severed limb!”

Connor wasn't sure what about his partner's statemate caused a laugh to form in his chest, but he couldn't see the harm in letting out a small chuckle as he shook his head. 

“All I need is some thirium at the moment,” he started, knowing that Hank always kept a few packets in his car for emergencies like this “and I can have new parts ordered from Cyberlife.” He said, smiling in a way he hoped was comforting.

“Aren't you some kinda prototype? They gonna have your parts?” Hank asked as they made their way to the door and started descending the stairs.

“There should be at least one RK800 model still in tact, or at the very least the parts made but unassembled.”

“And you're gonna trust them to just hand those parts to you?” Connor halted at the question, tilting his head at his partner.

“Cyberlife’s focus has been fully shifted to their non-android inventions and the production of thirium and spare parts.” He explained as though Hank wasn't fully aware of this fact even after almost a year of android freedom. “With Mr. Kamksi as CEO-”

“Yeah that's exactly why I don't trust them.” Hank's grumble cut him off before he could ramble on, the human tugging lightly on Connor's 'good’ arm, “C’mon now, your shoulder’s sparking a bit, you definitely gotta have someone look at that.”

Connor just nodded and allowed himself to be led down the stairs. He hadn't told the Lieutenant of the vital information Elijah had given him that chilly November morning. He had told no one in fact. Not Hank, not Markus, not a soul knew of the Amanda AI seizing his programming.

He understood Hank's wariness concerning the strange man returning to his seat as Cyberlife's CEO, he really did, Connor himself still shuddered at the memory of looking into Chloe's eyes as he held the gun steadily to her head; their creator encouraging him to just pull the trigger, shoot her and gain the knowledge he'd been programmed to stop at nothing to obtain. He did stop, though, and Elijah still gave him that one off handed piece to the puzzle that ended up more significant than anything he could have possibly revealed about deviancy. Not to mention the man covering for the fact that Connor murdered no less than seven humans in order to free the androids from the warehouse. ‘Officially’ the story was that the other RK800 found on the scene had been the one to kill the guards, and Connor himself had been the one to shoot it to save Hank’s life. Close enough to the truth he supposed, but still enough of a lie for him to feel he owed Kamski his support if nothing else.

He allowed himself to be ushered into the passenger seat once they reached the car. The spare thirium was in the glove box, he knew, but with no functioning hands he just sat quietly as Hank climbed into the driver’s seat. He felt distinctly useless, wincing slightly when his damaged shoulder did in fact give off a few sparks. 

“If you drop me off at New Jericho they can handle my repairs, and you can get a headstart on filing a report.” He said with a pointed look at his partner at the word report. Hank muttered something about him being a little shit, but Connor was pretty sure he was being given a free pass on such behavior due to his current state. 

The last thing Connor wanted when entering the office building which the city of Detroit had -- probably reluctantly -- handed over to the androids as an olive branch after the revolution, was to draw undue attention to himself. Of course Connor ‘being Connor,’ as many put it, felt that any attention at all was undue. Perhaps he should have made an effort to hide his injury before striding into the lobby, but the faster he got repaired, the faster he could help Hank get through the mountain of paperwork this incident would entail. 

Heads turned to look at him immediately, though he was sure the staring was not for the usual reasons. From his being the famed ‘deviant hunter’ to his occasional showing up in police uniform, he was used to getting looks from the androids who called the building their home. On this particular occasion though he was fairly certain the concerned glances thrown his way were due more so to his physical state than who or what he was. 

He also wasn’t expecting Markus’ own gaze to be one of the many now locked onto him. Today was just full of surprises it seemed.

“Who did this to you?”

“I require assistance with repairs.” 

Both RK models spoke at once, Markus appeared to consider something for half a second before letting his own question drop in order to lead the way down a hall towards an elevator. The silence wasn’t exactly awkward as they stood facing the doors, a foot between them, but Connor felt the urge to break it regardless.

“It was a red ice addict, we believed him to be unarmed, but lucky for him he had a chainsaw in his hideout. For some reason.” that part still confused him honestly, but he never pretended to understand the thought processes of humans on red ice. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say chainsaw?” Markus’ mismatched eyes had widened a fraction, and Connor calculated that the other’s concern for him had raised exponentially. A soft smile tugged at his lips at that. Connor wasn’t sure he would ever get used to anyone caring about his well being. It was a good feeling, though, he had decided rather quickly after deviating that it was one he liked.

“I can assure you, I had the situation under control.” He responded, and Markus snorted out a laugh. Before their conversation could continue, the doors opened on their floor and they walked in silence down the hall. This floor had been converted into what for a human would be a hospital which made Connor stifle a laugh as his mind helpfully supplied him with the words ‘robo hospital’ in Hank’s gruff voice.

The repairs were simple enough, the sparking wires and frayed sensors made into cleaner cut and less hazardous wounds, and the sharp edges of his damaged exoskeleton were melted to smoothness. His left hand was also an easy fix, the fingers the AP700 overseeing the procedures gave to him weren’t quite as sensitive as his own, but he needed at least one functional hand until his could get a new arm from Cyberlife.

At some point Markus had slipped back off to do whatever his undoubtedly busy schedule dictated he had to do, and Connor tried not to feel disappointed by the lack of time they had to speak together. Not just that day, but at any time. It was expected, Connor was a detective and Markus was the leader of millions. Being busy came with the territory, but he still wished he had more time with his friend. He assumed they were friends at least, Hank had said he and Markus were probably friends when he’d inquired about how to tell a few months ago. Emotions were so complicated and he wished, not for the first time, that they came with some sort of manual. He sipped thoughtfully on a packet of thirium as he made his way out of New Jericho and into the taxi he’d called to take him to the station, LED spinning yellow as he contacted Cyberlife for a replacement arm on the way there. He got a reply back within a minute that the arm would be delivered to his and Hank’s house as soon as possible. 

Connor sighed in relief, the feelings of helplessness from earlier finally dissipating. Everything was under control. He had everything under control.

He received another round of curious glances and concerned staring when he entered the station and took a seat at his desk, offering the Lieutenant a smile at his ‘you okay?’ look. Then of course Detective Reed had to make some distasteful remark, and Connor found himself entirely not in the mood to be polite, immediately extending the middle finger of his hand towards the other detective without so much as looking up from his work. Hank nearly choked on his sip of coffee.

“Now where did you learn that?” His partner asked as Reed stalked off with muttered curses. Connor smirked as he lifted his gaze to meet Hank’s.

“From the best.” He replied, smirk morphing into a grin at Hank’s chuckle. Today hadn’t been ideal, one might even call it a disaster, but all things considered everything had turned out alright.

At least for the moment.


	2. More Questions, No Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow life sure did sucker punch me, i havent even logged in here for over two months. my b, definitely gonna try to not have such a huge gap between updates next time lol  
> i proofread this several times so i hope theres a minimal amount of typos

Technically this case shouldn’t even be theirs to begin with, but the DPD had been reasonably short-staffed and overworked ever since the revolution. Connor was somewhat grateful for the fact, seeing as otherwise Captain Fowler and the other higher-ups would not have been nearly desperate enough to even consider allowing Connor’s return. The downside to this was being handed cases normally handled by other departments. 

Red ice circulation in Detroit had originally gone down after last November, a combination of the evacuation and the more strict availability of thirium for humans nearly killed the market. Before it was a normal thing for a human to buy some thirium packets, even in bulk. It was a sign of nothing more than someone properly maintaining their property. Now, though, a human attempting to buy even a single package of thirium 310 was a potential cause for alarm. 

The trade seemed to start up again once humans began to trickle back into the city, but after several junkies were caught through attempting to purchase their thirium from Cyberlife as usual, word seemed to spread and there hadn’t been a single report of a human attempting to do so in months. Which is why it was so strange that a few weeks ago reports of red ice users, dealers, overdoses, labs, et cetera started pouring into the DPD; so much so that the narcotics division needed to hand off some of the workload onto anyone available.

Hank of course was more than willing to take on any work that involved getting red ice off the streets, regardless of whether a homicide was involved or not. Connor was content enough to agree with his partner at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d sustained some critical damages over the course of their investigation. Well, mostly nothing to do with that.

It had been a week since the red ice addict, Bert Parks they now knew, had taken a chainsaw to Connor’s arm. The detective had been back to full functionality within a day, and since then he and Hank had been called to no less than four other locations rumored to be red ice labs; three of which turned out to hold true. It sounded good in theory, they shut down three labs, made multiple arrests. They even tracked down Parks and brought him into custody.

Despite it all, Connor could feel his frustration growing as each lab turned up nothing new. No leads on who was in charge in all of this. No leads on how they were getting their hands on so much thirium to be making the sheer volume of red ice they’ve found at the sites. No leads on where the next lab would pop up. 

It was all so random, like an algorithm written specifically to pick out a location from the most abandoned and derelict corners of the city to set up shop where the DPD will be least likely to find them. Yet the red ice itself was consistent, the exact same ratio of ingredients. Unmistakable, like a fingerprint. There was almost no chance of these labs not being connected, but at the same time hardly a shred of evidence to link them. In fact the whole situation wasn't technically a case, not as a whole. Nobody, besides Hank, believed that any of this was as tightly connected as Connor did, and brushed off his insistence as over analyzing. Such a notion was ridiculous of course, he was built for this after all, but pointing that out without making it an invitation to treat him like a soulless machine again was impossible. All of it was… irritating? No... infuriating? Perhaps. Connor didn’t know, and he didn’t feel like asking Hank like he usually did when he couldn’t quite place an emotion.

“Hey, Connor, I’m talking to you!” Hank’s voice suddenly raising in volume startled Connor out of his thoughts, the coin he’d been rolling across his knuckles fell from his grasp. The sound of the small metal disc hitting the carpeted floor was probably nothing to the humans, but Connor could almost feel the vibrations of it. He blinked down at the coin a few times, processors trying to rationalize why he’d let it go. He ran a few scans on his right arm, wondering if perhaps there was some latency due to it not being his original. He found none, and so he just continued to frown down at the coin, the face of a long dead president looking back up to him. Mocking him.

“Connor.” His partner’s voice was quieter now, gentler. Connor finally looked up to meet Hank’s eyes, a small textbox on the far right of his vision supplied that the look he was being leveled with was one of concern. He tilted his head at that slightly. Concerned? What for? He supposed dropping the coin was out of character, but certainly not enough to warrant concern.

“You’re doing it again.” Hank continued, drawing Connor’s attention back to him.

“Doing what, Lieutenant?” He asked genuinely, brows lowering in confusion. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach down to retrieve the coin, but that would be a rude thing to do while having a conversation. 

“Zoning out,” Hank answered, gesturing at Connor, “you’ve been staring at nothing for almost thirty minutes! Was gonna let you be but you didn’t answer when I asked if you needed a break and your light kept goin’ red.” Connor found his own fingers coming up to trace over his LED, his confused expression growing more severe.

“Why don’t we just head home for the day, it’s only an hour till when we’d be leaving anyway, and I think you need some time away from this whole mess.” Hank’s words set Connor on edge. They couldn’t just leave early because they hit a wall, in fact that was all the more reason to keep working! He opened his mouth to voice as much, but Hank’s raised hand halted him, his teeth clicking when he shut his jaw harder than he’d meant to. “Let me rephrase that,” Hank carried on, “We’re going home, we’re gonna watch some shitty television, and the case will still be here tomorrow.”

Connor knew he could still refuse, Hank had no real power over him when it came to what he did with his own time. Connor wasn’t obligated --wasn’t forced-- to follow any orders other than those that were work related and followed the chain of command. Even so, this was Hank, and watching shitty television shows with him sounded much more enticing than spending even another moment thinking about this case.

Connor leaned down with a sigh, swiping his coin off the floor and nodding to hank as he pocketed it. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

Listening to Hank sing along to the radio in the car always managed to lift Connor’s mood, even if ‘singing’ was being used in the loosest possible terms. He had become fond of the heavy metal the human enjoyed so much over the course of their friendship, and something about the energy and excitement Hank expressed through singing poorly along had something warm and amused settle in his chest each time without fail.

By the time Hank was pulling the car into the driveway, Connor was feeling more relaxed. Away from the stiff atmosphere of the precinct it was easier to focus on the things outside of work; to remind himself that his whole world didn't need to revolve around a case. Not anymore. He was more than that now.

Sumo was more than willing to help him forget about work for a while, and Connor let the huge dog topple him to the ground in the hall. Hank's laugh was muffled through the thick fur filling all of Connor's senses, a DNA analysis popping up on the right of his vision from the fur finding its way into his mouth. He sputtered a bit, trying to remove it but only managed to somehow get more in his mouth. 

“Saint Bernard, 8 Years Old, Red And Black Sable With Piebald And Mask: [AyAy BB CCch DD EmEm kk mm spsp tt]” blinked repeatedly with each shift of Connor's tongue. He grimaced in annoyance at the flickering message and the unpleasant sensation of a wet glob of fur sticking to his teeth and tongue. 

He was rescued by the sound of kibble hitting Sumo’s metal bowl, the massive beast trampling over Connor’s chest in his haste to get to his evening meal. Connor let out a quiet ‘oof’ when a wide paw caught him right over his pump regulator. He managed to sit up finally after a moment to recover, quickly picking the fur out of his mouth with a groan of disgust. He tossed the hairball in the trash in the kitchen, being sure to give Sumo a good pat on the bum to show there were no hard feelings. Sumo gave an appreciative ‘wrumph’ into his food, leaving Connor smiling softly on his way to join Hank on the couch.

“Feeling better?” his partner asked, Connor narrowing his eyes at the smug tone.

“I have to admit, you’re right about these things sometimes, Hank.” He responded evenly, keeping his light grin.

“Damn right I a- what do you mean sometimes?” Hank’s indignant sputter was punctuated by a pillow being launched at Connor’s head. He caught it, of course, but instead of retaliating he merely held it on his lap as Hank grumbled on about ungratefulness and ‘fucking androids’.

“Thank you.” Connor spoke quietly, keeping his gaze on the basketball game on the tv screen.

“Anytime, kid. Anytime.”

 

_______

 

“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Hank muttered as a young officer nearly ran into him while he and Connor were making their way to their desks.

“This is a police station, Lieutenant, not the fire department.” Connor supplied happily, smiling as innocently as he could at the glare turned to him over his partner’s shoulder. 

They didn’t even get a chance to settle into their chairs before Fowler was calling them into his office. Connor gave Hank a questioning glance, wondering if he knew what the captain wanted them for, but he received only a shrug from his partner.

“Looks like we finally got a homicide for you two.” Fowler opened with after Connor shut the door behind himself and Hank. “Some androids found in an abandoned auto shop.” he felt something tighten in his chest at the revelation that the victims were androids, and a sense of dread coming over him at the vague word choice.

“I’m sorry sir, but,” he glanced to Hank for a second, “some?” Fowler sighed as though he had been hoping somehow Connor would let the peculiar wording slide without comment.

“Yeah,” he started, rubbing his temple, “the officers on scene haven’t been able to piece together the bodies to determine how many victims there are. I’m hoping you will be able to resolve that issue.” Connor nodded.

“That all?” Hank asked as he took the file Fowler offered him, opening it to check the location of the shop and look over the handful of photos already taken. Connor watched his face morph into a grimace, and decided he wasn’t looking forward to arriving on the scene. 

He looked over the file himself on the drive out, noting that the call came from some teenagers who liked to hang around the still-abandoned outskirts of the city. They'd noticed strangers going in and out of the auto shop over several days, looking suspicious. When he flipped to the pictures, Connor had to bite back a pained noise threatening to rise in his throat. Limbs and mutilated torsos were strewn about, seemingly thrown haphazardly into piles somewhat organized by part type. It was grotesque even in the 2d renderings, and Connor was not at all expecting it to be any better in person. 

He tried not to look hesitant as Hank pulled up to the scene, but he still took a few seconds longer than the Lieutenant to get out of the car. He measured his steps carefully as he passed through the holographic police tape, following perhaps a bit more behind his partner than usual.

The walls and floor of the garage were all but painted with thirium, most of it would be invisible to the human eye, but it left Connor squinting against the onslaught of neon blue nearly burning his eyes. He adjusted his settings quickly, getting to work, the more he focused on getting to the bottom of this the less he would have to think about the dead androids as the living beings they once were. 

A scan of all the parts proved inconclusive in figuring out exactly how many androids had been killed and dismembered. There were too many limbs compared to torsos, and all the parts were such a random amalgamation of models and sub-types that maybe only one and a half bodies would be able to be put together. Not to mention the distinct lack of any heads whatsoever.

He must have been making a face as a firm hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him from his analysis. 

“You need to step out for a second? This is pretty fucked up.” Hank said, quietly enough that none of the other officers present would be able to hear. Connor let a corner of his mouth curl up in reassurance.

“My emotional state is stable, Lieutenant. I’m just confused about what happened here. These are not full bodies. More like,” He made a vague gesture, a habit he’d picked up when trying to explain his thoughts. It didn’t really have a purpose, but doing things without purpose was just one of the freedoms of deviancy he’d come to embrace, “just a pile of spare parts…” He trailed off, looking over to Hank for his input

“Huh, wonder where the the missing pieces are then.” Hank muttered under his breath, his own eyes scanning the garage. “Could be a dumping ground for left overs from some kinda black market trade?” Connor nodded at the suggestion. It was possible, someone kidnapping and killing androids to sell their parts off then dump the unsold bits out here.

“I still need to identify them all.” Connor stated, stepping away from Hank’s touch to crouch by the nearest pile of mangled android. “I’m going to analyze the thirium, if you would like to look away. I know you find my method of doing so to be distasteful.” He told his partner over his shoulder, raising his brows in a teasing expression. Hank rolled his eyes, snorting a laugh as he turned to speak to the officers who were working on combing the premises. 

Connor froze as the thirium hit his tongue, eyes widening in surprise at the analysis. He took another sample from a different part this time, only to receive the same result.

Thirium 310. That was it. No model number, no serial number. No identifying information. It was almost as though these parts, or the androids they had belonged to, had been used as mere containers for the liquid. Any android upon activation would immediately release the microtags into their thirium circulation to provide a means of identification should the need arise. For an android to have pure thirium 310 without additives would imply never being activated, or death by exsanguination, and then being pumped full of ‘clean’ thirium. 

With fingers just barely trembling, Connor reached for one of the less mutilated torsos, prying the casing open as carefully as he could manage. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t… this. There was no thirium pump, no regulator, no biocomponents at all. Even the ports had been removed. In place of it all were yards and yards of extra thirium tubing, all drained clean other than the residue only visible to Connor. He leaned back, sitting on his haunches as he considered the implications. These parts could hardly be considered androids, even if they were functioning. Without a pump the thirium would have just sat in the tubing, doing nothing. At most these parts put together into a machine would make a computer on legs. Sure the argument could be made that all androids were computers, but these individuals would have been more along the lines of a macbook being wheeled around on a cart than anything close to the living being Connor and so many others were.

So then why make so much effort to have as much thirium as possible in their veins? It did nothing for the body, so why have so much? Suddenly it clicked, the pieces beginning to fall into place.

“Lieutenant!” Connor called out as he stood, moving to meet Hank halfway as his partner hurried over to him.

“You sure you’re alright Con?” Hank asked once they were standing face to face, and Connor caught the way he looked pointedly at his LED. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what color was lighting up his temple, he had a theory and Hank needed to know.

“These androids may not have been murdered.”

“The hell is that suppo-” Hank shut his mouth as Connor raised a hand, the human nodding for him to continue.

“All of the thirium present is pure, unaltered, thirium 310. There are no tags or traces of substances that would imply these parts were ever a part of a living android. It may very well just be a bunch of spare parts.”

“But that raises the question of why?” 

“A creative way to transport thirium? All their biocomponents were replaced with excessive tubing.” Connor suggested, Hank nodding in thought as he considered it. He looked back over his shoulder at the piles for a few seconds, returning his gaze to Hank as the human came to a conclusion at the same time as him.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin?” Connor nodded.

“Red ice.” he said, scanning the room quickly again, “There was none made here, though, no traces of it. The thirium must have been removed from those parts then moved to another location. From what I've gathered whoever did so was not very careful about it, maybe they were in a rush?”

“What makes you figure that?” Hank asked, reminding Connor not for the first time that he was working with humans who couldn't see everything he could.

“There is thirium residue splashed everywhere, evaporated enough to be invisible to you, but the room is practically glowing blue to me.” he squinted around at the blue stains strewn across almost every surface. “It's like they did it on purpose, to cover something, or hide a trail…” 

Had whoever done this known they were going to be caught, or was packing up and leaving chaos in their wake part of their normal practices? Had they used the thirium to hide the trail knowing Connor would be there, or had they done it in case any android stumbled upon the place? So many questions impossible to answer with so little information. 

“C’mon, I think we've got all we can get out of this place.” Connor nodded to Hank’s words, but it was a distracted motion, and he didn’t turn to follow until Hank called his name.

“Coming Lieutenant!” 

More questions, and not a single answer. Connor had someone he needed to see.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you like it so far! i've written ahead a bit and will try to keep a somewhat weekly update schedule


End file.
